


for cinna

by onlyeverthus



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeverthus/pseuds/onlyeverthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss finds an unexpected connection with a man from the Capitol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for cinna

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive any mistakes, it's been a year since I read the series (which is about how long this idea has been in my head).

I hear Cinna coming before I see him, the whisper of the carpet under his feet, the soft rustle of his clothes. It's just like being in the forest, only instead of trees and shrubs and wild animals, there's glass and steel and glittering spires.

Though maybe the wildlife isn't really so different.

I'm in the hall because I can't sleep, staring out the window at the sprawling city below, and I turn my head when I hear Cinna's light tread.

"Can't sleep?" he asks. Everything about him is soft, his voice, his manner, even his style. He's still unlike anybody I've ever seen, but he's easier to take in.

I shake my head. "No. I haven't been able to sleep since I got here."

"You should be rested for tomorrow." He lowers himself onto the wide windowsill beside me and I spare him a glance before shaking my head.

"Rested for what, my death?"

"To _fight_. Don't sell yourself short, Katniss. You have just as much chance of winning as anybody else."

"The Careers –"

"They don't have the same stake as you. They don't want it like you do. They've trained their whole lives for this, but they still don't have the same instincts that you do."

I don't know what to say to this; I've never been good at accepting compliments.

Cinna is close, almost close enough to touch. I don't know what it is, but he makes me feel calm. Warm. Safe. I know he cares about me, though I don't know why. I care about him too, though I don't quite understand my feelings. They aren't like what I feel for Prim, or even Mom.

They're almost like what I feel for Gale, and that confuses me just as much as my feelings for Gale confuse me. I don't do feelings well either.

"All I know how to do is hunt," I hear myself say.

"In the end, that's all the Games are," Cinna replies quietly.

I look at him again, and this time I don't look away. He looks back, a smile playing on his lips, but it's a sad smile. He lifts his hand to tug gently on the end of my braid where it hangs over my shoulder and I can't help smiling too. I like Cinna's attention, his careful touches, his kind words. He always seems so focused on me, but not like everybody else in the Capitol. It's not the disgusting attention of the people who can't wait to watch me die; he wants to watch me live.

The kiss is light, his lips soft and warm, just like him. I've never been kissed before, but somehow Cinna being the first seems appropriate, and though I don't kiss him back, I also don't pull away.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs when he pulls back. "I shouldn't have done that."

I stare at him for a moment and then say the only thing I can think of: "It was nice."

My feelings are even more confusing now, and it's not just in my head, but in my body. Cinna is warm and safe and so kind, and I want to kiss him again, so I do. Why not, if I'm going to die soon?

The kiss lingers this time and I feel my body unfolding, all of me moving towards Cinna instead of just my lips. It's like he's a magnet, pulling me in, especially when his hand rises to curl around the back of my neck, but I don't want to resist.

I want the comfort Cinna is offering me, both emotionally and physically, and though there are cameras to catch my bold move, I take him into my room.

I don't know how this works, have only heard the barest whispers of this act from the other girls who don't know much more than I do, but Cinna is gentle and patient. He undresses me slowly and though he's seen me naked so many times already, this time I feel shy under his gaze. He just smiles and tells me I'm beautiful. It was hard to believe him when he said it before, and it's hard to believe him now. I'm not the kind of girl that's beautiful, I'm not some exotic, glittering creature like the girls from the Capitol; I'm a girl from District 12 who spends entire days in the woods and comes home with leaves in her hair and dirt under her fingernails and fresh kill over her back.

I guess I'm not that girl anymore, or at least I'm not now. I'm clean and smooth, and I may not be glittering, but I suppose I can be beautiful for just a little while.

For Cinna.

We move to the bed and Cinna is over me, his hands on my body, still gentle and patient, touching me slowly so I can know and feel and see what he's doing. All he's wearing now is his gold eyeliner and I can see his body, can feel him hard against my thigh. I've never seen a naked man before, certainly not in a situation like this, and I still don't understand what's happening to him, or what's happening to me, but it feels good.

A few moments pass of just his lips on mine and his hands on my body and then he shifts, pressing against my thighs, pushing them apart. My breath catches and he hesitates, staring down at me.

"Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

I shake my head. "No, I just don't know – how this works." Then I frown, feeling impossibly childish for my next question. "Will it hurt?"

"It might," he admits. "I haven't done this very many times myself, but I'll try – I don't want to hurt you, Katniss, and if I do, it's not on purpose. Just tell me."

I nod. I believe him. I trust him.

It does hurt, but only for a minute and not enough to make him stop. The girls I've overheard talk about this kind of stuff always mentioned purity. I guess I'm giving Cinna my purity, though I don't know if I've ever truly been pure, not surrounded by coal dust and death.

Once the pain passes, there is pleasure, and I find myself wrapping my body around Cinna, my arms around his shoulders, my legs around his waist. He's still warm, still safe, and I want him close to me; I want to feel everything.

After several minutes Cinna groans, blowing out a hot breath against my shoulder as his body tenses, and then he sags over me. I'm still wrapped around him and I press my lips to his shoulder, closing my eyes as I hold him tightly, keeping him close.

A few moments pass and then Cinna carefully pushes up, extracting himself from my grip. I feel cold now and I sit up to pull my legs to my chest as Cinna slides off the bed and walks into the bathroom.

He returns a moment later with one of the pristine white hand towels and sits beside me on the bed. He touches a hand to my knees, quietly telling me to relax my legs, and I obey, regarding him curiously as he uses the towel to clean me between my legs.

I see blood when he pulls the towel away and panic seizes my heart. "Am I bleeding?"

"Shh, Katniss, it's okay – you were a virgin. This can happen, but it's normal. You're okay."

Virgin. Another word for pure, I guess. Something else taken from me, but at least I was asked if I wanted it to be taken. At least I got to be in control of something.

Cinna stands, bending to pick up our clothes from the floor, handing me my nightclothes before he gets dressed. He keeps the towel, presumably to burn; I don't know what might happen if someone finds out about this. I don't know if it's against the rules or if anybody will care. Cinna seems unconcerned, but maybe it's just his ever present calm exterior.

Whatever the case, I decide to be calm too. There's not much more the Capitol can do to me anyway.

"Sleep well, Katniss," Cinna says softly, bending to kiss my forehead. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Cinna," I reply, lifting my gaze to his face as he straightens, and he favors me with one last smile before he leaves the room.

Once he's gone I lie down, still under the influence of Cinna's calm, and finally I'm able to sleep.

 

 

I'm shaking so much I feel like I can barely stand. Cinna is right beside me, but I don't feel his calming influence now. I guess I'm too scared.

He helps me dress, going over the details of my clothes, trying to give me some last minute advice. All I can do is nod; I'm afraid if I open my mouth I might throw up.

As he zips my jacket for me, I feel a whisper of the intimacy we shared the night before, and then he shows me my mockingjay pin, hidden under the lapel of my coat. I meet his eyes and he lifts his finger to his lips. Another secret shared between us.

An announcement is made – _30 seconds_ – and I look over sharply, my fear suddenly spiking as I look back at Cinna. His gaze is steady on mine and he lifts his hand to my shoulder, squeezing very slightly, trying to instill his calm into me.

"I'm not allowed to bet," he says softly. "But if I could, I'd bet on you."

He leans forward, and I wonder if he's going to kiss me on the mouth, but his lips press softly against my cheek, and I nearly burst into tears right then and there.

_Be strong, Katniss_ , I tell myself as I turn and start for the lift into the arena. _For Prim. For Gale. For District 12._

I turn as the lift seals itself, staring desperately at Cinna, and he gives me one final nod.

_For Cinna._

 

 

After my and Peeta's "victory", I'm beyond relieved to see Cinna again. Everything is so loud and crazy, but then Cinna pulls me into his inner sanctum, and into his arms, and I feel like I can breathe again.

Our friendship grows. We never mention that night again; to me it seems unnecessary. It happened, and I don't regret it, but I also don't see the point in bringing it up. I've never been one to live in the past.

And then suddenly it's the 75th Games. The Quarter Quell.

And I'm exiled to the arena once again.

I'm terrified. I can't go through that again, especially against other victors, victors who are much bigger and stronger and better than me.

Cinna is there, always, because there's always something I need to be groomed for, but the night before I'm forced back into the arena, he's with me, and it's just us, and I take him into my bed again.

We haven't done this again since that first time, but it's different only because it's familiar now. We don't talk; we don't need to. Even though it's been a year, I remember the lines of Cinna's body and the way he fits against me, inside of me, and again I find comfort in his gentle warmth.

This time, he doesn't leave right away. This time he stays and holds me until I fall asleep.

 

 

The next morning he gets me ready, helps me dress, preps me on the ins and outs of my clothing. It's just like last time.

At least until the Peacekeepers burst into the room, after I'm already trapped inside the tube. I watch helplessly as they savagely beat Cinna, my fists pounding against the glass, screaming words that only I can hear.

I watch them drag his limp body away just as the lift starts, propelling me upward into the arena.

There are tears in my eyes, but I have no time to cry.

 

 

It's later, sitting on the beach in the darkness, that I'm finally alone. My thoughts are all over the place, there's too much to think about, and then they land on Cinna.

Soft, warm, kind Cinna. I don't know if he's dead, but at the same time, I know he is. Was it because of me? Was it the rebellion he was beginning to help fuel, or was it the time he spent with me in my bed? Probably both.

My eyes burn and my chest aches, and my head drops as the tears come, rolling down my cheeks as I finally allow myself to cry for the kind, gentle man from the Capitol, who never quite seemed to fit in. For the man who cared for me more than he should have and loved me in his own way.

For Cinna.


End file.
